


December Daily Drabbles (Stucky)

by eksterteran



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, How do you even tag that timeline, M/M, Meet-Cute, Post-Captain America: The First Avenger, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Rating May Change, Rating for Language, There's 31 chapters and a lot are AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eksterteran/pseuds/eksterteran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One drabble a day in December, to try to break my writer's block and kick my fear of posting to the curb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. December 1st

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Your cat runs around full speed at 5am every morning without fail. Why?

His therapist keeps telling him it's healthy to journal, so he's been journaling. Every fucking morning, before the asscrack of dawn, he's been journaling. Time of onset, a 1-5 rating of volume, and duration. No one can say he's not thorough.

Okay, maybe not journaling, per se. But he's definitely writing in his crisp new composition notebook from the dollar store, and he's got quite a list now. Enough that he feels more than justified stomping up the stairs and pounding on the door of the apartment above his. He really sorta hopes the occupant(s) are in bed so they can share a little of his pain. Not that he's ever asleep at this time of morning, not with his issues, but that doesn't mean he wants to have to listen to the clamor above his head at any time of day.

There's a muffled but harried sounding noise from inside the apartment and then the door opens a crack and he has to blink, because this is unreal. The guy in front of him, what he can see at least, looks like he came out of a men's fitness magazine (running gear and all – and has he had that t-shirt since high school, because he's very much outgrown it now). Except the face and not at all artfully tousled blond hair. That part looks about as frustrated as the curse he heard just a minute ago.

“Uh, hi?” The blond is panting a little and his cheeks look flushed, which is adorable, but the way he's awkwardly trying to block the doorway makes Bucky tilt his head curiously.

“Shouldn't you be out of breath **after** you go running, not before?” His quip just gets Bucky a blank look in return and he shakes his head. Gotta get back on track. “Listen, pal, I don't know why you're practicin' parkour in your apartment before it's even light out. But I live below ya, and 'thunderous stomping at 5 a.m.' wasn't in my lease agreement.”

The blond really flushes then, and Bucky can't help half a smirk from tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I am _so sorry_ – it's Кот, she grabs my keys – I'm just watching her – and tries to dump them in the toilet –” 

Bucky decides to have mercy and stops the rambling by holding up his hand, notebook and all. He thinks he's getting the picture now. “Dog?”

“Cat.”

“Your cat's name is Coat 'n she steals your keys.”

“Her name's Russian, she's my friend's cat...”

His eyes widen. “You're Steve.”

The blond's eyes widen too, then narrow suspiciously. “Yes?”

“Jesus, why the fuck did you tell Natashenka you'd watch her cat?!” She's tried to wrangle him into the favor before, but he's met the little demon and there's no way he'll ever sign up for that. “I don't think that thing even _is_ a cat – way too smart. Like a evil mastermind.”

Steve still looks confused, but he smiles a little and it makes Bucky have to count through his next inhale so he makes sure he remembers to get enough air. “I'm starting to think that, too. You know Natasha?” His eyes dart over Bucky again, more appraising this time, and he brightens. Which doesn't help Bucky's oxygen intake any at all. “You must be James!”

Bucky scoffs. “Known to everyone else in the world as Bucky. Yeah. Hey.” He grips his notebook against his body with what remains of his upper left arm and holds out his right hand to shake. “She keeps hintin' we should meet, but I'm not sure how she thought it'd happen if she didn't introduce us.”

Steve grins. “Yeah, true.” His handshake is firm and warm and Bucky thinks he melts just a little. “So you live right below me? Maybe she assumed we've got the same scary Russian spy powers she does.”

“Ha! Probably. Okay, listen, I've dealt with this she-devil before. ... Кот, not Nat.” He quickly adds that on when Steve actually starts to look a little offended. “Let me in, I'll show you a trick...”


	2. December 2nd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Is there a reason you never say my first name?

“Steve, wait!” The blond stops and turns and grins, gap-toothed, as his new best friend Bucky, a year older than him to boot, breaks into a run to catch up and walk him home from school.

“Steve, wait!” He's too upset to listen, storming off with a bloody nose and split lip from yet another fight he had to be dragged out of, more worried about the fact that it's the last few days before Bucky's high school graduation than he is about his wounded pride.

“Steve, wait!” There's a secret hope in his chest that Bucky might offer him some security now that he's alone in the world and he doesn't fail to deliver, although what he tries to give to Steve is more than the blond could ever ask for.

“Steve, wait!” Bracing himself for the lecture he's about to get, he watches Bucky jog up in his crisp new uniform, more adamant than ever that he'll be allowed to enlist because if he's not, he's finally come to terms with the fact that he might never see his best friend again.

“Steve, wait!” It's a familiar refrain, although probably more frustrated now than it's ever been, and the supersoldier can't help smirking a little as he ignores it, plowing into Nazis like a rampaging bull, sure that Bucky will have his back like always.

“Steve. Wait.” Logically he knows his very presence must be killing the blond, burying him in grief. And he can see it in the blue eyes, whether that's old but forgotten familiarity or superior training that allows him to spot it. Uncertain, he lays his hand, his right hand, on the larger man's arm. “Why don't you ever call me Bucky?” It's closing on a year that he's been back, both of them gravitating closer and closer to each other, but the nickname's never left Steve's lips.

Steve turns, smiling softly, and tucks a strand of hair that's come loose from the brunet's ponytail behind his ear. “'Cause you're not anymore. You're JB now.” When the man he's loved for almost a century looks worried, even a little scared at those words, he cups his jaw and gives him a gentle kiss. “Don't worry, I think I need JB more than I ever needed Bucky.”


End file.
